


Know It's All Worthwhile

by FunkyinFishnet



Category: Lucha Underground, Professional Wrestling
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Developing Relationship, Male Slash, Multi, Polyamory, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-24 17:57:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6161749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FunkyinFishnet/pseuds/FunkyinFishnet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angélico has always had two soulmarks but he's never cared about finding either of them. How could any feeling compare to a sweet ride on his bike or to flying through the air and getting a win? He gets a good feeling with Ivelisse and Son of Havoc though and they've got plans for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Know It's All Worthwhile

**Author's Note:**

> Title is a lyric from 'Starman' by David Bowie.

 

 

 

Like most people who hadn't met their soulmates yet, Angélico covered up his soulmarks. It wasn't like he was fucking ashamed, stupid idea, thanks for shouting it, mate. The fact was, Angélico wasn't all that interested in finding his soulmates. He wasn't going to put his life on hold, change who he was or how he approached anything just because there was someone out there who wore his mark. Well, two someones actually . That wasn't all that unusual where he came from though some people in the States gave him really weird looks and asked even stupider questions.

 

So many people wanted to know what mark you had, where it was located, ooh did you know that means you'll marry a blonde guy or that you'll meet a brunette abroad or that she'll work with her hands? So fucking stupid. A soulmark was just a mark, a calling card, all right? If Angélico ran into his soulmates, he ran into them. But he wasn't going to join one of those online groups that worked to match people's marks up, he wasn't going to spend forever obsessing about them. He was having way too much fun.

 

That was important to Angélico, he wanted to have fun, fly the highest and win titles. He knew how good he was and that whoever wore his marks, they were going to have to know he wasn't going to change. Honestly, he couldn't imagine one person, let alone two, giving him the high a dirt bike race or a trip through the air onto an opponent did. Why would he want someone, two someones, overtaking all of that? He knew what he wanted and there was so much still to do. So he didn't look.

 

He was a success at home, then in Mexico then he chose Lucha Underground to make his mark in America. He won a championship, of course, he made headlines – did you see his dive off of the top of the boss' office? It was GIFed and replayed hundreds of times. His bookings were filling up really nicely. A lot of people wanted Angélico on their show. Oh yes.

 

America also brought him into contact with Ivelisse and Son of Havoc.

 

*

 

Angélico thought Ivelisse was hot – no surprise, that body, those eyes and the way she moved? And so she kicked him in the head, he'd taken worse. Her kicks were seriously sharp. Angélico really liked that; she knew what she was doing, even if she was aiming at the wrong guy, even if she always thought she was right when she wasn't. Like he said, he'd dealt with worse. And Ivelisse, in her unreasonable rage and blowout hotness, he couldn't stop watching her, smirking at what he was seeing.

 

Son of Havoc was great in the ring and winding him up was a ton of fun too. Angélico really could not resist, again and again. The guy never took his mask off – it suited him – and he had seriously piercing eyes, a great body and more than a handful of beard. Angélico had always liked tangling with and jerking around people, especially the hot ones, people who reacted like sparks off a chain. So this was fun and Christ, they were so stupid sometimes, why didn't they listen to him? Dario was determined that they were going to be a team, so they were. At least they were hot to look at, at least all three of them laid waste to everyone they faced in the ring, come on of course they did. Havoc and Ivelisse didn't always get it but they could sometimes, when they were following Angélico's directions. And it all kept being fun.

 

*

 

Angélico never asked about their soulmarks. The way they argued, it was a toss-up as to whether they had a mark for each other or not. Angélico had met people who argued all day and all night with their soulmates or just with anyone who crossed their path. Ivelisse argued with everyone. She wouldn't be Ivelisse if she wasn't trying to get the last word or trying to prove her point. Angélico loved to beat her at that game. Son of Havoc always seemed amused when Angélico got in there too.

 

Havoc and Ivelisse both kept their marks covered. Angélico's were on his right forearm, placed close together, it made covering them easier. He wore long sleeves most of the time anyway and when he didn't, he wore the usual elastic-bandage-style cover-up. Ivelisse and Havoc never asked about his marks either. That made them a rarity and Angélico was grateful, though of course he didn't tell them.

 

He could hear them now, arguing as they trained. Ivelisse was still injured. She was a tough bitch, breaking an ankle like that but still completing two matches, leading to them becoming the first ever Lucha Underground Trios Champions. Oh yes, gold always looked good on Angélico. It didn't look bad on Ivelisse and Havoc either but again, he didn't tell them that.

 

The two of them argued so damn much. Angélico was used to background noise, he always had music on, when he was alone, in crowds – it was good to have a mute button. Their arguments almost had a rhythm now, how they threw and handled words. He smirked a little at the pitch Ivelisse was reaching and at the grunt Havoc let out when she thumped him, again. It was normal now.

 

Sometime, he didn't bother with his headphones.

 

*

 

One night, he was sitting in the locker room after a brutal match apparently put on for Dario's enjoyment because he loved seeing his Trios Champions suffer. Apparently their win of the belts hadn't been part of his grand plan. So what? The fans loved them, they were awesome – especially when Angélico took flight off the office, right? What the hell should Dario care?

 

Ivelisse punched his shoulder. “You idiot! You take a fall like that again, you could get injured and where would that leave us?”

 

Angélico cast an amused look up through his fringe, “Still champions because you and I both know, an injury doesn't stop us keeping our belts.”

 

Ivelisse gave him a hard look but didn't disagree. Because she was still out there, defending the belts despite being on crutches. And God, she was fucking hot when she was angry.

 

Havoc appeared at Angélico's shoulder, “It looked good, babe. And we've still got our belts.”

 

Ivelisse let out a deep noise of frustration, “It looked good?! He tries to literally suicide dive and it looked good?!”

 

And they were off again. Angélico didn't intervene, he did sometimes because he wanted to keep the belts and that meant the two of them not going for each other's throats in the ring. Angélico was excellent out there but even he couldn't successfully fight off three opponents at the same time night after night. As he listened, sinking into that rhythm, he felt something cold drop onto his arm, onto the wrist he'd jarred badly on his top-flight landing. It'd only started to really hurt once they'd won the match and the adrenaline had worn off.

 

An ice pack. Ivelisse or Havoc had dropped an ice pack into his arms. Neither of them were looking his way but okay, sure, they wanted to keep the belts too. Angélico got that. He also felt a spindle of warmth drop through him as he kept an eye on them, definitely smirking as he listened, not aware of how his smirk was softening into a smile.

 

*

 

A couple of times, to his amusement, Angélico found himself included in Ivelisse and Havoc's dinner plans. It wasn't like he was given a choice. Ivelisse would be leaving the locker room – looking smoking in tight denim and leather – and Havoc would be dialling something up on his phone and they'd be half-talking half-arguing and Angélico would be smiling to himself, his thoughts wandering through the last bar Jack had told him about when Ivelisse would call impatiently from the doorway.

 

“Hurry the fuck up.”

 

He'd smirk at him, waiting for her to say it – that she _wanted_ his company. But she wouldn't say anything close, she'd just stand there, eyes blazing, jaw tight, hair wild like a jagged halo as she tossed her head. And Havoc would finish up with his phone and slice a look at Angélico that said a lot of very interesting things. Angélico would see a dozen hot things there worth picking at. So sometimes, more and more often now, Angélico would grab up his bag and leave with Ivelisse and Havoc.

 

Havoc always knew places that did great food, the kind of joints with grease on the countertop and loud music from a really bad stereo system and people shouting or sleeping behind the counter and Angélico always tried to play footsie with the pair he'd walked in with and someone always made a pass at Ivelisse and she'd lash out and yeah, fun times. Really fun times.

 

It really was.

 

*

 

It was a little way beyond that – after multiple dinners and locker room argument-talks – that Son of Havoc asked if Angélico wanted to actually join them on the open road. Angélico preferred very different machines to Ivelisse and Havoc, Ivelisse mocked him for his ride but she'd never set foot on a dirt track or been part of a motocross pack. Angélico liked the idea of getting her and Havoc there, just to hear the screams. They'd love it, a road was a road, dirt or tar. It was in their blood.

 

So now Son of Havoc wanted to share his road with Angélico. There was Ivelisse, buckling on her helmet, adjusting her leather gloves. She was expectant and impatient, her posture and expression daring Angélico to refuse. Angélico's first impulse was to grab his helmet and waggle it towards Ivelisse, telling her that she'd never had a ride until she'd sat astride a machine like his. He wanted to race the pair of them under the hot stars, making jokes out of the traffic because of course they'd do that. There wasn't much they couldn't do as a team, they left everyone else in the dust.

 

His phone buzzed as he reached for his helmet, Jack asking if he was finally fucking free to hit town, homes, where you been hiding? Angélico frowned and tried to remember when he'd last seen Jack. In Mexico, they lived in each other's pockets, sure, but they had plenty of time and fun apart too. That'd always been their deal. It hadn't been like that with Ivelisse and Son of Havoc.

 

Fuck. Angélico's social life had pretty much shrunk to them, hadn't it? How had that happened? He enjoyed it but it wasn't _normal_ , not for him. And if there was a whisper in his head – sounding way too much like his aunties – he squashed that shit immediately and snatched up his helmet like a lifeline. This was what he did, he did not have anything take over his life, what he loved, and get in the way.

 

“Got a place to be.”

 

He didn't apologise, he just left, as Ivelisse's face creased with disbelief and Son of Havoc's arms fell to his sides. Angélico didn't feel guilty or any kind of loss, no, he didn't. He found Jack at a bar they both loved, Jack was already persuading the bouncers to let him stay after knocking someone's drinks over. They both drank well into the night.

 

It was good. It'd been too long. Angélico had a lot of fun. It just wasn't...They ended up at a club and Angélico got in the middle of the dancefloor and thought about dancing. Ivelisse would definitely try to lead, her body tight against him, her eyes cutting through the multicolour lights. Son of Havoc would bracket her or he'd get the drinks in and watch them. Yeah...

 

Angélico eventually stumbled home and drank two pints of water before crashing to sleep fully clothed. He wanted to sweat and work out tomorrow without a raging headache.

 

He woke up several hours later without a hangover but with a numb sick stomach, a sensation that had nothing to do with how much he'd drunk the night before. He went out for a run until sweat ran into his eyes and then showered and got ready for the day, for the Temple. For the first time in years he actually properly looked at his soulmarks, touched them, stared at them in the mirror, very definitely ignoring the voices of his aunties rising to chide him, and expertly covered the marks again.

 

*

 

At the Temple, Ivelisse and Havoc were throwing harsh words at each other, surprisingly quiet enough for Angélico not to hear them. That was new. His stomach lost some of the sick feeling when he dropped his bags in the locker room and ran his gaze over his tag team partners.

 

“Have fun last night?” Ivelisse asked, her words a jeering challenge.

 

Angélico's smile was all taunting teeth, he couldn't ever resist trying to land a hit, “Always do.”

 

“Offer's still open,” Havoc reminded him. “Road always will be.”

 

Havoc's gaze was steady and there was more than a glimmer of something in it. Like there was something else besides challenge in Ivelisse's look. Ivelisse's jaw went tense and she stormed out of the locker room, towards the heavy bags. Havoc lingered, looking at Angélico. There was warmth and something...

 

Havoc's hand swayed towards where his own mark was covered. Maybe he didn't realise he was doing it. When Angélico didn't say anything, Havoc left with a shake of his head. Angélico unzipped his bag. So his stomach wasn't numb and didn't feel sick anymore. So what? He was about to wrestle, in the Temple, that was what was helping, right?

 

*

 

Angélico was thinking of going out again that night, maybe with Jack, maybe without. It'd help, to keep things varied again, to get back into that lifestyle. Ivelisse and Havoc, they were his tag partners and the three of them were going to keep on ruling Lucha Underground. Angélico had his bikes, his friends, the way he felt wrestling and winning, nothing was going to dominate and consume that. That didn't happen.

 

He was in his apartment, stripping off his jacket and shoes when there was an angry knock at the door. When he opened it, Ivelisse stomped in, Havoc right behind her.

 

“How fucking stupid are you?” Ivelisse demanded, her eyes wild. “Really? You don't get this? At all?”

 

There was that expression again on her face but she whirled around, like he didn't deserve to see. Havoc got close to her, a hand against her back and shoulder. And she let him. Angélico gazed at them, everything inside of him sparking and it was all _lifting_. Because of them. Fuck.

 

They were hot and they drove him crazy and spending time with them was apparently consuming and addictive but this? This shouldn't matter so much. Ivelisse was storming towards him again.

 

“You fly fucking higher with us.”

 

That was...not completely untrue. Ivelisse growled and yanked Angélico down into a kiss. It felt amazing, her mouth was as demanding as the rest of her and Havoc was standing behind Angélico, he could tell. He was hit by the sensation of _it shouldn't feel this good, why does it feel this good? Why was I leaving again?_

 

Ivelisse bit his lip and hissed, “On your knees.”

 

Angélico smirked and watched as she unbuttoned and peeled off her jeans. Now that was a view, “And what do I get?”

 

“Fucking stupid,” Ivelisse was scornful.

 

Havoc touched Angélico's shoulder firmly, “”Really, really stupid.”

 

Ivelisse was wearing high-cut briefs and there was the heavy shuddder of clothing behind Angélico, like Havoc was undressing too. The sparks was becoming scalding hot and Angélico dropped to his knees, Havoc's hand heavy and warm on his shoulder again. Ivelisse balanced a foot against Angélico's other shoulder; the command very clear. Angélico's mouth dried but he kept the smirk on as he bent his head, moved her briefs aside and got to work.

 

*

 

Ivelisse was loud and he was doing a lot right because the loudness was amazing. She didn't stop directing him though, liking it best when he sucked on her clit and then tongued behind and in. The taste of her, Angélico couldn't get enough. So his breathing was limited, who the fuck cared? He kept going, sandwiched between the pair of them, Ivelisse rocking hard against him until she came with a throaty shout.

 

Angélico didn't have any time to savour. Ivelisse pushed her foot hard against his shoulder and Havoc made him turn and then Angélico was sucking Havoc's cock. It was a very nice cock and Havoc wasn't making him deep-throat yet and Ivelisse was kissing Havoc and fuck. Okay, yes. Fucking, yes. Angélico moaned and Havoc got a bit rougher and that hit the spot and Angélico was soon swallowing everything. Then he was getting dragged up and shoved onto a sofa as Ivelisse and Havoc took turns kissing him.

 

“How the fuck didn't you know?” Ivelisse asked.

 

She was unwrapping her arm before Angélico could answer, revealing two soulmarks. One was a feather and the other was a string of words that she very quickly hid from view. Angélico's heartbeat soared, like he _knew_ , how did he know? Havoc revealed his own marks – another feather and was that a boot? Neither of them shoved Angélico to unwrap his arm and fuck, he was diamond-hard in his jeans because he still hadn't fucking come but it still didn't seem as important as pulling away the cloth that always covered the skin of his arm and revealing a tread mark and a bow. Just like that. Wow. Ivelisse's fingers twitched like she wanted to touch them. Yeah. He got that. The thought of touching their marks...

 

Angélico licked his lips, forcing the words out, “This doesn't mean-.”

 

“Fuck off,” Havoc and Ivelisse retorted in perfect harmony.

 

“We chose this,” Havoc said, gesturing between the three of them.

 

“It's ours,” added Ivelisse, sounding amazingly hotly possessive. “How did you not know that?”

 

Okay, so maybe he did, under everything, under not wanting to ever meet a soulmate, let alone two. So many people said it was romantic-slush amazing, feelings that meant nothing else mattered. Angélico had always rolled his eyes. There was no way it could compare to what he loved in his life already, and he didn't want it to. Too much to do and enjoy and conquer.

 

But this? This was the open road, dirt tracks, dinner, fighting and fucking. This was theirs, wasn't it?

 

He could get used to this. He actually wanted to. And fuck, he really needed to get his jeans off. Ivelisse had a searingly greedy look on her face.

 

“I want to see you come.”

 

Fuck yes. Angélico still smirked, “You think you can make it happen?”

 

Havoc turned Angélico's head to kiss him properly as Ivelisse got a hand to Angélico struggling out of his jeans, finally freeing his cock. Thank fuck for that.

 

“She always thinks she can,” Havoc said as he pulled back a pace.

 

Ivelisse was arguing with him again but her hand was around Angélico's cock and if his phone was buzzing right now he didn't fucking care. He pushed his hips up. He was going to fuck them both, God there were so much they were gonna do and win together, in and out of the ring. And he was going to take to the open road with them, their bikes owning it, his ahead of theirs definitely. How about that? How the fuck about that? What they'd done to him.

 

His marks were warming up. He was probably imagining that.

 

Ivelisse's pace kicked up and Havoc was kissing him and Angélico was breathless like riding tracks and leaving the dirt. He flew.

 

_-the end_


End file.
